


The Third Wheel (Sometimes It's Necessary)

by kathierif_fic



Category: Leverage
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathierif_fic/pseuds/kathierif_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t matter what they try to get some time alone, they always get interrupted. Hardison starts to feel suspicious – not even Parker can be so oblivious as to what they are trying to do, or can she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Wheel (Sometimes It's Necessary)

**Author's Note:**

> very vague spoilers for season 4, in the way that it references particularly The Lonely Hearts Job and The Carnival Job. 
> 
>  
> 
> Many thank yous to Ginny and Mer, who looked this over for me,  
> to terrorinyertub, whose artwork this was written for (it was an absolute pleasure working with you!),  
> and to the mod of thebigbangjob, for all the work!

"Stop gloating." Sophie leaned close to Nate, her lips almost brushing against the shell of his ear as she whispered the words before pushing herself off the wall where the crew had come together to watch the final culmination of their latest con. They were out of the way of the cops and out of sight for their mark, now in cuffs, with the color of his face changing between deathly pale and furious red as he was unceremoniously pushed into the back of a car and taken to the nearest precinct.

"Good job, people," Nate said, his attention split between watching the squad car pulling away from the curb and Sophie walking past with an air of casual disinterest in the proceedings on the other side of the street.

"Yay," Parker added before glancing at Hardison, as if she needed it approval that she had used the expression correctly.

Hardison gave her an absent-minded smile before turning to leave as well. He still had work to do, traces to clean up, electronic files to delete, to make sure their involvement into this case would remain undiscovered and nothing could be traced back to them.

He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that Parker, Eliot and Nate weren't lingering any longer before splitting up and disappearing, to do whatever they did when they didn't work a job. He was sure he would find Nate at McRory's later, sitting half-slumped at the bar with a glass filled with amber liquid in front of him, and he was almost certain that Parker would be busy checking out the new exhibit at one of the museums. She had mentioned something like that while she'd been busy hanging upside down against the facade of their mark's offices in dizzying heights.

Parker knew how to look out for herself, and Hardison didn't doubt for one second that she would remain undetected in her pursuits of new security systems and valuable artwork.

Sophie would take care of Nate, showing up later and gently coaxing him away from the alcohol and into his apartment, away from the dark thoughts hanging around Nate's head like thick clouds.

Hardison grinned and pushed his hands deep into his pockets, until his fingertips brushed against the cool edge of his cell phone.

He would call Eliot later, pretend that it was just a whim of his wandering mind, and would ask him to come over and watch the game. If he was smart about it, Eliot would volunteer to cook for them without more than just an occasional growl that was more for show than anything else. Maybe they would order pizza and argue about toppings during the game, and maybe Eliot would agree to make pizza himself. Hardison had to stop himself at the thought and get himself back under control. He wasn't willing to admit it, but Eliot's home-made pizza was the best he'd ever tasted, and he would take every possible opportunity to get it.

But that was for later. Now, he had to get back to headquarters and start cleaning up behind them, and as soon as that was done, he could try to figure out a way to coax Eliot into coming over. Everything else would have to wait until then.

~*+*~

The phone vibrated gently against the glass surface of the table, where Eliot had placed it as soon as he'd arrived home. He'd seen the way Hardison had looked at him, and he knew what it meant.

He'd been waiting for the call since the second they had split up.

"What?" he growled into the small contraption, certain that his tone would not deter Hardison from what he'd been planning. Hardison, Eliot had discovered, was like one of those small and annoying dogs that never let go of something they really wanted. He was stubborn, and whenever Hardison had set his sights on something, he was displaying a surprising amount of patience and craftiness to get it.

What he wanted now was Eliot to come over and watch the game with him and then cook. Eliot pushed back the smirk that threatened to break through at the thought and focused instead on the phone call.

Hardison was at home, at his desk. Eliot could hear the soft hum of computers in the background and the occasional clacking of a keystroke. His breathing was slightly elevated, but not enough to suspect anything out of the ordinary, except maybe the fact that Hardison liked his computers a little too much. Nothing in his voice or the background noise that filtered through the connection indicated that this was anything but the forced casual invitation for Eliot to come and watch the game with Hardison.

He grunted an answer that could have been a yes just as much as a no before hanging up and shaking his head. It wasn't the first time Hardison had asked him to come over, and Eliot was perfectly aware of the growing attraction between them. Hardison's breathing pattern changed subtly, but distinctively, every time Eliot was close to him, he had started to get as twitchy and nervous around Eliot as he had been in the beginning, when they hadn't known each other yet and he hadn't been sure how far he could go before Eliot would snap and beat him with his own limbs or something.

Back then, Hardison had been almost afraid of Eliot and his abilities. Now, it was something different. 

Eliot allowed himself a grin as he grabbed his wallet, his phone and his keys. He would stop by the store on his way over and pick up something to cook, and then, he would sit back and see where the evening would be going, how far Hardison would allow it to go before he shied away again, certain that he'd misread the signals Eliot had been sending out, signals so distinctive that even someone as obtuse and focused on his computers as Hardison couldn't misunderstand, no matter how hard he tried.

~*+*~

The game was exciting, the meal Eliot had tossed together with nothing more than a handful of pasta, some vegetables and some chicken had been delicious, and now they were sprawled out across Hardison's comfortable couch, their knees almost touching.

Hardison couldn't focus on the action on his TV. Eliot was radiating heat, and there was something about the way he was holding his beer bottle, tipping it back whenever he took a sip, his throat moving, his tongue briefly appearing to touch the rim, that made heat pool low in his stomach.

He was sure Eliot didn't do it on purpose, and if he did, it was just to tease Hardison about his little crush, a little crush he was sure Eliot knew all about.

Eliot probably could hear the sound of Hardison’s heartbeat, rabbitting away like a panicked animal caught behind his ribs just because Eliot’s leg rubbed against his. He was sure there had to be a logical explanation why Eliot was sitting so close to him and not on the other side of the couch, which, a small part of his brain pointed out, was big enough for both of them and then some.

He probably should move away from Eliot, as well, but something kept him glued to his spot, eyes on the TV and hyperaware of Eliot’s body right next to him.

Eliot shifted and took a sip of his beer.

Hardison’s mouth went dry.

Eliot’s shoulder brushed against his arm.

This, he decided, definitely was on purpose. No man was sitting as close to another man as Eliot was doing to him right now without conscious decision, and if Eliot had consciously decided to sit so close to him, he had to have a reason, and that reason was either because he wanted to mock Hardison mercilessly, or...

“Dammit, Hardison!” The familiar growl interrupted the tight circle his thoughts were caught in, and he was yanked even closer, until he was sprawled across Eliot’s hard chest, their legs tangled. He barely managed to catch himself with his palms braced on the cushions before Eliot’s lips were on his, slick and warm and surprisingly soft.

Hardison opened his mouth - to yelp, to protest, he didn’t know and he didn’t care, because suddenly, Eliot’s tongue pressed into his mouth, past his teeth and against his own tongue, slick and agile and quick and all he could do was to close his eyes and kiss back.

After that, he was only vaguely aware of what was happening, like a live stream that was choppy, or snapshots making up a mosaic of reality. Eventually, he found himself stretched out on top of Eliot’s shorter, more compact body, his fingers tangled in Eliot’s hair, and Eliot’s hands were pushing up his t-shirt, fingertips dipping teasingly under the waistband of his jeans before swiping up his spine again, tugging again at the cotton of his shirt until it was tangled under his arms. 

It wasn’t easy to get his fingers on Eliot’s shirt, but eventually, he managed to tug at the red fabric enough to get skin contact, hot and perfect and not enough.

Hardison panted and pressed his mouth to the tiny spot under Eliot’s ear he’d discovered, the one that made the blood rise into Eliot’s face and his hips arch up and rub against him uncontrollably. 

“Shirt. Off,” he managed to press out and pulled back slightly. He missed the friction of Eliot’s body against his own immediately, and his fingers fumbled on the hem of his own shirt as he yanked at it.

The cool draft of hair against his overheated skin was the only warning he got before Parker walked in, a bowl of popcorn in her hands and a grin on her face.

Hardison flinched away from Eliot as if Eliot had hit him. He almost tumbled off the couch in the process, got tangled in his own shirt, and by the time his body hit the other end of the couch, he felt as if his heart was trying to stop in his chest.

Eliot, he realized when he dared to glance over, didn’t look much better than him. He was still blushing, his hair sticking up where Hardison’s fingers had been wrapped in it, and he hadn’t managed to put his clothes quite back in order, with just a tiny stripe of pale skin visible over the waistband of his pants.

He had to force himself to look away and focus on Parker, and the fact that she had just walked in when he’d been making out with Eliot, to stop his brain from going completely offline. He needed to focus on Parker, or he would do something stupid, like leaning over and licking that little patch of exposed skin right here, while Parker was watching.

It took him a little while to transform the high-pitched noises that escaped from his mouth into words that humans could actually understand, and Parker had taken advantage of his moment of distraction to sit down in the middle of the couch, where moments ago Eliot and he had been wrapped up in each other, happily munching on her popcorn while stealing the remote from Hardison and changing the channel before either of them could protest.

They spent the rest of the evening watching cartoons, eating popcorn and teasing each other. It was nice, but, Hardison thought later, when he sat down in front of his computer again after both Parker and Eliot had left, it was not what he had hoped for; not after Eliot had kissed him.

No, after that, he had hoped for something with a little less clothes, and less Parker and no popcorn.

He sighed softly and started World of Warcraft. This had been his one chance to get his hands on Eliot, and Parker had interrupted it. Who knew if Eliot would want to try this again.

~*+*~

“Hey man...” Hardison trailed off when he caught his first good look at Eliot’s face and the blood smeared across his lip and nose, the redness and the swelling around his eye. “You look...”

The words didn’t want to come. He couldn’t express how he felt about seeing Eliot like this, beaten up but not beaten. Hardison didn’t know how Eliot did it, how he managed to get the job done even when brought to his knees, and, having listened to every fight Eliot had been in since they all had teamed up all these years ago, he had a firm opinion about things that sounded worse than they looked.

Eliot was looking at him now, squinting at him, but his shoulders seemed to be relaxed and Hardison took it as a sign that Eliot wasn’t angry at him or anything.

“I have ice,” he finished lamely and waved one hand toward the stairs leading up to his apartment. “I mean, if you want some, you know, for your face.” He licked his lip nervously. “You should at least wash up before the cops arrest you for looking like...” He waved his hand again, a graceless arc in the air that included everything and nothing at the same time.

Eliot’s face softened somewhat without him moving a single muscle. “Fine,” he growled.

He sounded just like always, the same deep rasp in his voice that made Hardison’s knees go weak and conjured up images of them in between high-count sheets. 

“Cool,” he murmured weakly and started to climb the stairs, Eliot just a step behind him. He didn’t move slowly, or carefully, Hardison noted, the way he did when he was certain that he’d broken a rib or two, or something else was fundamentally wrong with him.

The fight had, once again, sounded worse over their comms than it had been. Hardison shook his head and grimly decided that one day, he would manage to build a filter into Eliot’s ear bud that would make a clear distinction between the hits Eliot took and gave.

Until then, the only thing he could do was to move through the kitchen and get the ice pack from the freezer. He didn’t know when he’d started to store it in between frozen dinners and ice cream, but he didn’t hesitate as he grabbed it and wrapped it into a towel, the way Nana had done it when he’d been a kid with a scraped knee.

He started to turn back around, but Eliot had managed to sneak up on him and was much closer than he’d been just moments ago, his body crowding Hardison against the fridge’s door and his hands hot through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

They didn’t talk. There was no need for words, and even if they had wanted to talk, Hardison wasn’t sure he’d ever be capable of finding the right words for what they were doing, what was going on. Instead, there was the coppery tang of Eliot’s blood, smeared and dried on his pale skin, the slick heat of his tongue pressing insistently against Hardison’s mouth, and the sound of his breathing, the feeling of his body strong and solid against him, muscles and bones and sinews under Hardison’s fingers where they rubbed Eliot’s shoulders and tugged in an attempt to get Eliot closer.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hard and urgent and filled with blood and fear and triumph and stubborn refusal to back down. Eliot’s teeth were sharp where they cut into Hardison’s tongue and lip, aggressive and dangerous, and Hardison knew he couldn’t just step back and stop now.

He needed more.

He needed Eliot, needed him so much his entire body ached with the sudden desire. He wanted to keep his eyes open during the kiss to see Eliot, see the flush starting to spread over his face, over the tip of his ears and down his chest until he looked so thoroughly debauched that no question remained as to what he’d been doing. He wanted more of Eliot’s taste, that spicy mix of flavors Hardison had started to get addicted to. It would take more than just a little blood and the sharp tug of teeth to stop him now.

“What are you doing?”

The confused question made them yank apart sharply, but there was no way they could hide what they’d been doing. Both of them were flushed and breathing harder and Hardison could swear his lips had swollen in reaction to the kissing.

“Parker,” he managed to say, but before he could add anything else, he had to take a few deep breaths. Eliot seemed to feel the same. He was staring at Parker, his arms crossed over his chest and his hair tangled wildly, and Hardison wasn’t sure if Eliot could keep himself under control or if he was planning on charging toward Parker and make sure she knew exactly what she’s interrupted.

“Is his mouth injured, too?” Parker asked and looked at him with huge eyes. She was, Hardison thought, not at fault for who she was, and he was certain she didn’t have the faintest idea what she’d interrupted.

Almost interrupted.

It wasn’t her fault, but it didn’t stop Hardison from wanting to slam his head into his kitchen cupboards until he didn’t remember what he was trying to do here.

Why Eliot’s taste was still on his tongue, the smell of his sweat and his laundry detergent was still in his nostrils.

Why he still could feel his body heat where Eliot’s hands had been.

Eliot growled something under his breath, grabbed the ice pack and stalked away, leaving Hardison to explain to Parker what was going on, or find a good excuse.

He had to think quickly to come up with something a little more subtle than _you interrupted while I was trying to make out with Eliot._ He didn’t want to hurt her and her feelings; feelings he was sure she had somewhere hidden away. 

Feelings he’d tried to coax to the surface for months before turning his attention toward Eliot.

He still cared for her, and he probably would care for her for the rest of his natural life, even if she managed to get him arrested and thrown into jail somehow. He knew that she would realize what a mistake that would be and would get him out of prison as soon as she realized what she’d done. 

He believed in her.

Sighing, he leaned his head back against the cupboard behind him and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“We have to teach you about a little thing called privacy, girl,” he told her.

“Privacy?” Parker repeated and hopped up on the counter. “What for?”

Hardison busied himself with getting the sugar cereal out and handing it to her while he tried to think.

“You know you’re always welcome to visit,” he finally said. “But sometimes, Eliot and I...we need to do guy things. Like...fishing. Yeah. Fishing.” He nodded. “And when we’re fishing, you should probably at least knock before you come in. Or call before you do.”

Her frown told him that she had no clue what he was talking about, but she accepted the bowl of cereal from him and nodded while wearing an expectant expression on her face, as if she hoped that she was doing the right thing.

“Just call before you come over, okay?” Hardison said and left her to her snack before going to find out where Eliot had disappeared to.

He didn’t need to look for long. Eliot was sprawled out on the couch, the same place where they had kissed and made out for the first time. Had it really been just a week ago? To Hardison, it felt as if it had been years ago, and at the same time, he remembered every detail as if it had been burned into the back of his eyelids: from the solid weight of Eliot’s weight on top of him to the taste of his mouth and the calloused hands running down his back and chest.

He also remembered the guilty look Eliot had given him when Parker had interrupted them and he had almost flinched back from Hardison as if he’d been bitten, or as if he was ashamed of being seen with him.

Hardison shook his head sharply, to dislodge that particular thought. If Eliot was ashamed of making out with him, he would never have started it in the first place, he was sure of that. He remembered all too well the first rocky days and weeks of working together, the contempt he had been able to read in every gesture and look from their hitter. 

With time, Eliot had realized how valuable a member Hardison was, or at least that was what Hardison hoped. The teasing hadn’t stopped entirely, but it had shifted from something malicious to something different. Eliot still made fun of him and what he did, but as soon as someone not on the team attempted to do the same, Eliot was the first to defend Hardison. Only he was allowed to make fun of the hacker, apparently.

Hardison couldn’t say that he minded. Not anymore. 

Not when Eliot made up for his jokes with pressing Hardison against the fridge and kissing him senseless, not that it had happened more than once so far. And thanks to Parker, that had led exactly nowhere.

Hardison sighed as he dropped down next to Eliot and pulled his laptop close. He had work to do, and there was nobody but him to do it. It didn’t matter how often he tried to explain it to Nate, there simply was no blueprint fairy, and their briefings didn’t prepare themselves.

Tuning out Eliot and the hockey game on the TV wasn’t easy, but Hardison managed, and not much later, he was immersed in financial statements, tax evasion and connections to the Russian Mob.

When he looked up the next time, the sun was going down, Parker was perched on the couch next to him, and Eliot was long gone. Hardison stretched his spine until it popped and put the computer down. His stomach was growling and his eyes burning, informing him of the fact that he’d spent hours staring at the screen.

“Where did Eliot go?” he asked.

Parker shrugged. “Home, probably,” she said.

Hardison rolled his shoulders. “You want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked her, not really expecting her to agree, but to his surprise, she nodded.

“Chinese?” he asked, and ten minutes later, they were on their way to a little Chinese restaurant Parker knew and liked. He managed not to think about Eliot and how it felt to have the other man press into him too much, and he was able to almost follow Parker’s conversation.

All together, it was a nice evening. He genuinely liked Parker and even was a little bit in love with her, and spending time with her was no hardship.

 

~+*+~

“Please.” 

Eliot rose from his spot at the counter, the cup in his hands balanced carefully on its saucer, and wandered over to the couch where he handed it over to Sophie. Hardison followed him, close enough on his heels to hear the annoyed huff Eliot let out but with enough distance not to run into his back when Eliot stopped abruptly and turned around.

“Please, Eliot?” Hardison gave him the best version of his puppy dog eyes. They usually worked on Parker, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to fall back on tried methods. 

“No,” Eliot growled.

“Please? I said please. I can’t do it.”

“Can’t do what?” Sophie asked from her spot. Her eyes were turning from Hardison to Eliot and back as if she was watching a tennis match.

“Help him with his desk.” Eliot’s voice dropped into an even deeper register, and he gave Hardison a look from narrowed eyes.

“I can’t do it,” Hardison said, “I need some help, unless you want to explain to Nate why we don’t have access to Thompson’s servers...”

“What does the one have to do with the other?” Sophie interrupted. Eliot simply balled his hands into tight fists.

“It’s a desk. A computer stands on a desk. Without a desk, I can’t use my computer,” Hardison explained with an eye roll. “Without a computer, I cannot do my work, and everybody gets extremely unhappy about that.”

Eliot opened his mouth to protest, but before a single word could escape, Hardison’s attention was back on him. “I’m begging you here, seriously, man, there is no more shame in me, I need you to help me, whatever you want, you can have it.”

Eliot hesitated. He rolled his eyes, but his shoulders softened, almost invisibly, and Hardison grinned widely, until Eliot gave him one of his special glares. 

After that, he tried to contain his glee. He had won this battle, and he didn’t want Eliot to drop some tool on Hardison’s toes, accidentally or not, and he knew that Eliot could be vindictive enough to make something like that happen.

“Tonight,” Eliot told him. His voice did something to Hardison’s insides that he preferred not to think about too closely, especially considering that Eliot didn’t really seem to be very happy about the situation. “You bring the beer.”

He nodded hastily. He didn’t need to go out and buy Eliot’s favorite beer since he already had some of it in his fridge, bought before the last time Eliot had stopped by for a game. 

That had been the day when Parker had interrupted them, he remembered, and Eliot had gone home instead of staying over for the night.

Eliot opened his mouth as if he wanted to add another thing, but he snapped it shut without saying anything and stomped off. It wasn’t unexpected, Hardison thought. Eliot was a smart guy, but when he got annoyed or agitated, he sometimes tended to forget his words and reverted to spluttering and growling.

Maybe he would throw in some pizza on top of the beer, he decided. Or a fridge full of vegetables he wouldn’t even know the names of for Eliot to turn into a delicious, delicious meal. Or he could record a few hockey games.

He could definitely do that.

All of that.

~*+*~

Eliot put furniture together the same way he did everything else, with quick, efficient moves and without much of a fuss. He had arrived around seven, had taken in Hardison’s office with the flat-packed desk he was supposed to set up, the hockey game already on the TV, the bunch of leafy vegetables in the fridge, and he had only grunted briefly when Hardison had handed him a beer.

And then he’d set out to work, and all Hardison could think about as he watched him was how much he wanted to unbutton the checkered flannel shirt he was wearing and slide his hands under the waistband of Eliot’s jeans.

He could see the muscles move under Eliot’s shirt, and he wanted to kiss up a trail up his spine and stick his nose right against that hidden sensitive spot at the base of Eliot’s neck he’d discovered the last time…

He forced his thoughts away from that particular line of thinking and focused on the construction of his new desk. Eliot knew exactly what he was doing, and it was assembled quickly enough.

Hardison crossed his arms over his chest as he scrutinized Eliot’s work.

“What?” Eliot asked.

“I don’t know, man.” Hardison tilted his head slightly to the side. “I mean, I’m gonna put my baby on that. You think it’ll hold up to the weight?”

Eliot started to get that little line between his eyebrows that indicated him starting to get annoyed, and Hardison knew he had to talk faster to get his point across before Eliot decided he’d been pushed too far and put his fist through Hardison’s face.

“I mean, all I’m saying is that we should test it before I put my computer on it.” He waggled his eyebrows in what he hoped to be a suggestive manner.

Eliot stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and lack of understanding, and Hardison knew that the time for talking was gone and he needed to act now.

He needed to be assertive and take initiative.

Taking advantage of his bigger height, he stepped closer and crowded Eliot against the edge of the desk. Bending down a little, he put both hands on Eliot’s chest and pressed his mouth against the smaller man’s lips.

Eliot made a small sound at the back of his throat and started to kiss back, and Hardison ran his hands up to Eliot’s shoulders and slipped his fingers under the tangles of Eliot’s hair, to the soft warm skin underneath. He scratched his blunt nails gently along the skin and happily accepted Eliot’s tongue in his mouth.

Eliot’s hands grabbed fistfuls of Hardison’s bright orange shirt and yanked. Hardison was almost certain that he could hear the material creak under the stress, but he couldn’t focus on that right now, not when his front was pressed tight against Eliot’s, his dick was starting to get very interested in the things that were happening, and Eliot was making soft sounds deep in his throat, sounds he probably wasn’t even aware of. They were enough to make Hardison grow even harder in his pants, and he ground against Eliot and started to fumble with the buttons on his shirt with one hand while the other stayed at Eliot’s neck.

Eliot pulled away. His eyes were slightly glazed, his lips parted, and a flush had spread across his cheeks.

He looked gorgeous, Hardison thought while grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking Eliot back into the kiss.

Eliot bit at Hardison’s bottom lip. Stubble rasped as they shifted and moved together, kisses grew uncoordinated and sloppy, and finally, his fingers managed to open the shirt and push it halfway down Eliot’s arms.

Eliot’s skin was surprisingly soft around the scars dotting his body, warm and musky and so very inviting. Hardison sucked a line along Eliot’s throat and shoulder, biting softly at the skin he found there and inhaling Eliot’s smell until he felt almost dizzy with it.

His own shirt was tangled around his armpits by now. Hardison sucked in his stomach instinctively, but as soon as Eliot’s fingertips brushed against his navel on their way down to the waistband of his pants, he exhaled with a shudder and grazed his teeth against the juncture of Eliot’s neck and shoulder again.

“We should move this someplace else,” Eliot growled. His voice had fallen into a deeper register, his mouth was hot against Hardison’s cheek, and he was still touching every inch of Hardison’s skin he could reach. “Someplace like your couch. Or your bed.”

“Yeah,” Hardison squeaked. “Yes.”

They managed to take a step apart, and Hardison made short work of his shirt, pulled it up over his head and dropped it carelessly onto the floor. He could always pick it up later, when Eliot had left, or just leave it where it was until it was time for laundry day.

Eliot gave him a quick, disgusted look, but that didn’t stop Hardison in the slightest. He grabbed Eliot by the shirt that still clung to the crooks of his elbows and pulled him out of the home office and toward the bedroom.

“Is Eliot going to cook for you today?” a voice chirped up behind his back. Hardison flinched almost violently enough to stumble and hit his head while yanking away from Eliot with enough force to push the other man a step or two back.

Eliot, he could see, was not happy about the interruption. He was still flushed, but his eyes were narrowed dangerously, as if he wanted to charge at Parker like a bull.

“There’s all these funny-looking vegetables in your fridge. I checked for real food, but there isn’t any. Just…leafy things. You only buy this stuff when you want Eliot to cook for you,” Parker continued, seemingly oblivious to the murderous mood Eliot was in.

Something had to be done, or they would quickly be down one very talented thief. Nate would be annoyed if they broke Parker. Hardison had to do something really quickly, before Eliot did something to Parker they all would regret later, no matter how annoyed about her interruption he really was and no matter how much he wished that she hadn’t shown up and had left him and Eliot to get somewhere.

Biting his lip, he took a deep breath and slowly released it while compiling the html code to a basic website in his head. It had a better effect at calming him down than counting to ten ever had, and that was exactly what he needed now.

“Parker,” he said with as much patience as he could muster. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged and easily hopped up onto the counter. Her heels beat a happy rhythm against the cupboard doors, and she gave him an easy and wide grin. “I was hungry. I thought Eliot was cooking for you.”

“Dammit, Parker,” Eliot growled before Hardison could even open his mouth, and then he added something that was almost unintelligible but sounded suspiciously like, “Stop cockblocking us!”

Parker’s smile disappeared and made room for a confused frown. “What?”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Eliot pointed out, slowly and the words drawn out as if he was talking to an idiot. He sounded marginally calmer; calm enough for Hardison to dare putting his open palm against his shoulder in the futile attempt to stop Eliot should he choose to attack Parker, or at least slow him down enough for Parker to jump out of the window or something.

“Does that mean you’re not cooking?” she asked. She still sounded bright, but a hint of disappointment was creeping into her voice and her shoulders started to slump. She was, Hardison noted absent-mindedly, wearing climbing gear, so she probably had come in through the window and could disappear the same way really quickly if Eliot decided that he’d had enough and that he needed to strangle her immediately or something equally as drastic.

Eliot’s shoulders slumped, and he groaned loudly. “Seriously?” he complained as he stomped over to the fridge, where Hardison had made some room besides bottles of orange soda, and glanced at the vegetables Hardison had bought.

“What?” Hardison asked defensively. “What’s wrong with that stuff?”

“Do you even know what you bought there?” Eliot asked with a resigned shake of his head. He reached up, smoothed his hair back from his face, and pulled it into a ponytail before piling ingredients on the counter next to where Parker was still sitting.

“Not a clue,” Hardison admitted before pulling his laptop out and placing it on the table, so that he could work while watching Eliot work.

For a while, companionable silence fell between them, only interrupted by the beat of Parker’s soles against the cupboards, the sounds of a sharp knife cutting through vegetables, and the keystrokes from Hardison’s computer. Eliot handed Parker a knife and some potatoes to peel, and she attacked them with an enthusiasm that was both scary and adorable while Eliot prepared the rest of the food.

“What did you mean when you said that, cockblocking you?” Parker’s voice cut through the silence like the knife in Eliot’s hands slid through carrots, and maybe, Hardison thought, it was a good thing that he wasn’t holding anything with a sharp edge, or he probably would have sliced his thumb clean off.

What he did was flail uncontrollably, which earned him a flat and disapproving stare from Eliot and a frown from Parker.

He took it as a good sign that he managed to stay on his stool and not fall flat on his ass.

Eliot shook his head and went back to chopping, and although he refused to answer Parker’s cockblocking question, he managed to turn a pile of leafy vegetables that Hardison really didn’t know the name of into a great meal the three of them shared.

~*+*~

Nate walked into what he still considered his living room but what was really their headquarters with crisp, quick steps that were evenly measured. There was no barely audible shuffling in his step, his hair was not sticking up wildly and his shirt was actually tucked into his pants.

New case, then, Eliot thought as he relaxed back into the cushions of the couch, and not a drunk bender due to any unforeseen circumstances or dead bodies buried somewhere in Nate’s psyche.

A quick glance revealed Parker perched on the couch next to him, her knees pulled up to her chest but her shoulders relaxed. She’d arrived at the same conclusion as he had, then, and there was no need to coax her out of the ceiling beams again. Eliot had done that once, when Nate had been too drunk to see where he was going and had scared her, and he had sworn never to do that again.

Nowadays, he glared and poked at Hardison until the hacker went and talked Parker out of whatever hiding place she’d holed up in. It was an arrangement that worked for all of them, or at least he’d thought so, until Parker apparently had come to the conclusion that she could interrupt Hardison at any time and in any activity, up and including those that involved Eliot.

He had to get Hardison to talk to her again, apparently, but not right now.

Not when Nate had that manic gleam in his eyes that told Eliot they had a new case, something crazy and outrageous that had Nate’s brain fire on all cylinders, coming up with plans and more plans.

Not when Sophie had that interested tilt to her chin and shoulders, leaning slightly over, all her attention focused on Nate – more than professional interest in him, Eliot noted. The shift of her hips was very distinctive. That, he thought while taking a casual sip of his drink, was interesting.

Hardison’s fingers were already flying over the keys of his computer, finding information about their case even before Nate had time to open his mouth to tell them what the case even was, in the first place. He’d listened in on Nate’s conversation with the client, obviously, and had already started to look through all the data available to him to find the exact right angle Nate could use to start an attack.

“Our client’s name is Roger Vanderpoes,” Nate said. A picture appeared on the screen on the wall, showing a picture of a young, pale man with a confident smirk and curly blond hair.

Sophie made an excited sound at the back of her throat that told not just Eliot that their client was probably rich enough to tempt her interest away from Nate, even if it was just temporarily.

So much, he thought with a mixture of amusement and a faint feeling of dread, for helping the helpless. Whatever had happened to Mister Vanderpoes, it had to be something huge; something so gigantic that his fortune had not been able to make his problems go away.

Those were the kind of clients that put a spring into Nate’s step, nowadays. Eliot knew that this could not end well, that sooner or later, Nate’s plans would fail and they would all find themselves in trouble, and Eliot liked to think that he was prepared for that day.

“Mister Vanderpoes claims that his wife, who he met at a charity auction, was murdered due to her falling in love with him, whereas his lawyer and best friend Marc Starston, swears he saw her weeks after her apparent murder,” Nate explained while in quick succession, photos of the wife and the lawyer flashed up on the screen. Hardison was in his element as he compiled information while Nate’s voice washed over him and he put it together into the kind of presentation he was so proud of.

“So what?” Parker asked. She’d wrinkled her nose in confusion as she stared at the pictures on the screen. “She tried to steal his money and got caught?”

“No.” Nate smiled briefly. “She has enough money of her own. She bought him at that auction, and Marc Starston claims he saw her at another of these auctions.”

“What does he want us to do, then?” Sophie asked.

Nate shrugged slightly. “He wants us to find his wife for him.”

Hardison looked up from his computer. “That’s it?” he asked, incredulously. “He just wants us to find his girl?”

Nate nodded. “She is the most important person in his life. Let’s go steal a wife.”

~*+*~

“These bachelor auctions are always hosted by the same charitable society,” Hardison reported while a map and several red dots appeared on the screen once he pushed a button. “The profits are always used to support the charity of choice. They do change things up every time they have an event. Today it’s a bachelor auction, tomorrow it’s scrubbing stones at the beach for publicity, to protest against oil spills and environmental pollution. They’re quite active, actually, and there is no sign of them being on the dark side, if you know what I mean.”

Nate made a thoughtful noise. “What’s their next planned event?” he asked.

“Bachelor auction, again. It’s one of their most successful events, you know. Everyone wants a rich husband or wife, especially if they already are rich.” Hardison shook his head. “So what now?”

“Now, we find an in.” Nate gave him a slight nod.

It was enough. Hardison knew exactly what he needed to do, and the smirk on his face told everybody who knew him and cared to look that Hardison had a plan of his own already set in motion.

Sophie straightened. “You know what that means,” she said with a wide, excited smile. Parker tried to shrink in on herself and hide in plain sight, but she didn’t stand a chance against Sophie’s enthusiasm.

“We’re going shopping!”

~*+*~

“I still don’t understand why I need a new dress for…” 

Hardison pulled the ear bud out and dropped it onto the table before he gave Eliot what he considered his most seductive smile.

“So…” he said, “Sophie and Parker are out shopping for the most expensive dress they can get their hands on…Nate is busy doing whatever…”

Eliot rolled his eyes, and it was enough to interrupt Hardison’s flow and to make him stutter.

He hated when that happened.

“And it’s just you and me,” he finished, his shoulders slumping slightly. 

Eliot crossed his arms over his chest. “So?” he said, and Hardison rolled his eyes at his obtuseness.

“So,” he said with forced patience. “Parker is with Sophie, and you know Sophie and shopping. There’s no way she lets her out of her clutches for the foreseeable future. And Nate is busy, too, and I have a perfectly fine apartment next door. And nobody will come knocking and demand that you cook them dinner or something.”

A slow grin started to creep over Eliot’s face as he caught on to what Hardison was trying to say. 

“Should we go, then?” he asked, with the air of someone whose idea the whole thing had been from the beginning. 

“Yes.” There was no room for doubt or hesitation in Hardison. He even went so far to grab Eliot’s hand and pulled him after himself, at least until Eliot stepped on his heel and almost made him fall.

It had been on purpose, he was sure of that, but he had no evidence and when he turned around to complain, Eliot was there, his body strong and firm and pressing Hardison back into the wall and holding him there, and before Hardison could voice his complaints, Eliot’s mouth was on his, warm and soft and tasting like tea and toothpaste.

Hardison could feel himself melt into Eliot, the only thing keeping him upright the points where Eliot’s hands were burning through the cotton of his shirt, where his hips were pinning him to the wall, and where their chests brushed when they both breathed in.

The kiss turned desperate quickly, the pent-up frustration and lust between them bubbling up and bursting through the seams of their control, and before long, Hardison was clawing at Eliot’s shirt while rubbing himself against the thigh Eliot had pushed between his legs. Eliot’s tongue still muffled every word he was trying to say until only sounds and whimpers escaped.

“Bed,” Eliot growled against his lips. His hair was disheveled and his face had turned a darker shade, a flush that spread down to his throat and probably further, and that he couldn’t wait to explore more thoroughly. He whimpered his consent and rubbed his lip against the edge of Eliot’s jaw, enjoying the rasp and burn of stubble against his own skin while stumbling blindly into the direction of his bedroom.

Through the haze of arousal and Eliot, he vaguely heard a beeping sound that was familiar. It wasn’t important, he thought; nothing was except Eliot and the muscles he could feel under his hands, separated from his touch only by the shirt he hadn’t quite wrestled off of Eliot yet. 

It was his cell phone.

Someone, he thought vaguely while tugging on the hem of Eliot’s shirt, had sent him a text message.

They managed three more stumbling steps in the direction of his bed when suddenly, there was a different beeping sound. It wasn’t anything Hardison was familiar with, but Eliot growled a curse. His hand moved away from where it had been resting against the curve of Hardison’s spine and reached into the front pocket of his jeans, to pull out the familiar rectangular shape of a phone.

“Seriously, man?” Hardison asked and let himself fall backwards, onto the mattress of his bed.

“Could be important,” Eliot pointed out with a shrug and swiped his thumb across the screen. “But then, it could be just Parker.” He sighed and shook his head, but suddenly, his eyes widened a fraction and the blush that had started to disappear returned full-force.

“What?” Hardison asked impatiently. “What is it?” He reached for his own phone, remembering the text message he’d received. He was willing to swear every oath and take every bet that Parker had sent him the same message as the one that had Eliot acting so strange.

“Parker,” Eliot growled and tossed his phone onto the bedside table. “Twenty pound of crazy in a five pound bag, that’s what she is.”

If he thought his words would be enough to satisfy Hardison’s curiosity, he was sadly mistaken. Hardison glanced away from Eliot and down to the screen of his phone, to pull up the text message Parker had sent him, and he almost swallowed his tongue as he realized what he was looking at.

The photo was slightly blurry, but there still was no doubt about what he was looking at.

“Breasts,” he said, feeling dazed. “Parker sent me a picture of…” He frowned and focused on the details visible in the shot, the pale skin and the sheer, black bra that left very little to the imagination, the blonde hair spilling over thin shoulders and curled teasingly against the fabric of the bra, the position the person in the photo was in.

“…of her breasts.” Hardison shook his head in confusion. “What is she doing?”

“Bra shopping,” Eliot said with a hint of something Hardison couldn’t quite figure out in his voice. “Don’t look at that, man. Look at me.”

Hardison made a sound of agreement, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not turn his gaze away from the picture and the swell of breasts that looked as if they would fit perfectly in his hands and the contrast they formed to the black lace.

It was completely unfair: Parker wasn’t here, but she still managed to cockblock him.

“I don’t know, man,” he managed to say around a dry throat, “that looks…good. Yeah, good.”

Eliot was silent.

Hardison flinched slightly. He fully expected the other man to punch him in the face any moment now, and he knew that he deserved it. He knew how not to be an ass on a date, and he knew that looking at someone else while he was supposed to be with Eliot was bad manners and _he_ would punch himself for it if he could. His Nana had raised him better than this.

And then, Eliot shifted next to him and buried his face in the crook of Hardison’s neck. He huffed a moist breath against his skin, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“She really does,” he agreed, his voice soft and kind of rough. “She’s something else, that’s for sure.”

“She is.” Hardison finally managed to put the phone away and buried his hands in Eliot’s hair, to coax him to lean up for another kiss that was softer and gentler than any other kiss they had shared so far.

Hardison allowed himself to get carried away by the unexpected gentleness for a long moment, but as soon as Eliot stopped kissing him, his brain came back online and he could start to think about Eliot’s words, and, if he was honest with himself, pretty much immediately start worrying about what they meant.

“So…” he started and bit his lip until it stung. 

This was Eliot. The guy was smart, but he was not smart enough that he could read Hardison’s every thought from a single word like _so_ , but apparently, he was, because all he did was brush his lips against Hardison’s collarbone in an obvious caress and said, “Yeah, I know, man. Just shut up now and let me…” 

And then, he did something with his thumbs, thumbs that Hardison hadn’t even realized were resting so close to the waistband of his pants, and his thoughts focused back on Eliot and Eliot’s fingers and Eliot’s mouth and nothing else.

They made out for a while, Eliot’s hand broad and warm and resting against his hip, fingers pushed under the waistband of Hardison’s pants and teasing against the edge of his underwear, not doing much, just being there and dragging Hardison’s attention to the fact that he was hard, hard and aching and constricted by his underwear, and that Eliot was apparently taking things slow and wouldn’t be rushed by wordless pleas and muffled whimpers.

It didn’t matter how much Hardison arched his back and pressed himself into Eliot’s hand, Eliot didn’t make a single move to unbutton his pants, and his own fingers were too shaky and uncoordinated to do much more than yank at Eliot’s belt buckle.

Five minutes later, when the door banged open and loud steps hurried toward his bedroom door, which wasn’t quite closed, Hardison was incredibly thankful that they both were still dressed.

Eliot’s body tensed over him, and with a quick move, he’d changed his position and had flipped Hardison over to his front. Before he knew what was happening, Eliot had caught his wrist in a tight grip and yanked it up between his shoulder blades.

“What is going on here?” Nate sounded suspicious, but he still pushed the door open without hesitation.

“Nothing, man.” Eliot shifted slightly. “Just showing Hardison here how to defend himself. Can’t be there all the time.” He shook his hair out of his face. “Parker’s a better student than him.”

Nate frowned, not quite believing him, and Hardison managed to twist his head around to look at him. He couldn’t blame Nate for being suspicious – they were both shirtless, they were on Hardison’s bed, and Eliot, at least, was flushed, his hair tangled wildly. The whole thing looked everything but innocent, even without any visible evidence of their arousal – Hardison was on his front, pressing his still half-hard dick into the mattress, and Eliot seemed, at least as far as Hardison could tell, completely unaffected.

Unaroused.

He looked a lot as if he was annoyed, his flush a sign of his growing anger and scorn for Hardison. Somehow, he had managed to look the same way he always did when dealing with other people; people he didn’t want to deal with.

Hardison decided to do his part to convince Nate that they really hadn’t done anything but practice self-defense. He had to be careful, he thought as he shifted slightly, as if he was trying to break free of Eliot’s hold. He knew he tended to oversell his grifts, and Nate was one of the best, if not _the_ best at realizing when someone was trying to bullshit him.

“Get him off me,” he said as whinily as he could. He knew how much Eliot hated that tone, and Nate knew it too. “Eliot, if you’re breaking my arm, I swear, I’m gonna…”

“Gonna what?” Eliot leaned more of his weight on his caught wrist, and yeah, that really hurt. “What are you gonna do, huh? Send spam to my email? That all you can do?”

“Let go!” He squirmed, giving up on trying to find an adequate threat. 

Nate sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Eliot, let Hardison go,” he ordered warily. “We need him to get us an invite to the party tonight.” He lowered his hand. “And I need you to follow Marc Starston, the lawyer. Make sure that he knows he’s being followed, but doesn’t see your face.”

Eliot simply nodded and abruptly let go of Hardison’s wrist as he stood and bent down to pick up his shirt. Hardison whimpered and rubbed his shoulder until Nate had left the apartment, then he relaxed back into his pillows with a frustrated groan. “If this goes on, I’m never getting laid,” he complained.

Eliot, who was busy buttoning up his shirt, simply growled.

~*+*~

It was always an interesting experience, Eliot thought as he glanced down from the slightly raised stage at the crowd of people gathered around them, to watch his teammates in different environments.

This upscale bachelor auction was definitely right up Sophie’s alley, and she had done everything in her power to transform Parker from the ugly duckling into a beautiful princess.

Parker’s dark green dress only enhanced the porcelain-like paleness of her skin. She looked good, and if he didn’t know her and worked with her, Eliot was sure that he would at least try to hit on her.

Maybe.

But then, he knew Hardison as well, and he worked with him, but that hadn’t stopped them from trying to hook up, if not for Parker’s knack for interrupting them when things were just starting to get interesting.

The thing was, Eliot knew Parker. He knew how she ticked. Years of working side by side with her had taught him a thing or two about her, about how she saw the world and how she tried to operate in it, especially when she found herself in a situation she had no experience with.

Another sweep across the room revealed Nate at the back of the crowd, snapping pictures of couples and single women. Sophie was at the other end of the room, smiling her most convincing fake smile while talking to an older gentleman. Eliot’s trained eye dismissed him as threat almost immediately. If he tried anything funny, he was sure Sophie and her shoes would be more than able to deal with it.

He stepped up to the edge of the stage when his alias was called and smiled down at the crowd, focusing on one particular woman in a white, short dress who showed a lot of cleavage and leg. He deliberately kept his eyes up and looked her in the eyes while trying to tune out the details of his cover.

The less he was annoyed with Hardison, the better.

The bidding began, and things developed just as Eliot had expected and Nate had planned. The woman in white went along with his flirting and seemed adamant on outbidding everybody else and winning, when suddenly, a pale arm in the back shot up just as the host, who had taken the role of the auctioneer, seemed ready to close the bids.

“Parker, what are you doing?” Nate hissed, but Parker didn’t reply. She simply raised her hand again, and again.

The woman in white had a determined expression on her face as she raised her own bids, but Eliot started to recognize the look in her eye.

She wouldn’t go much further before dropping out.

Someone had to stop Parker before she ruined the entire con.

Turning slightly aside, as if he wanted to gloat to his fellow bachelors, Eliot clenched his teeth and snapped, “Parker! Don’t ruin the con, dammit!” without moving the muscles of his face.

He didn’t know if it was the tone of his voice, or the thunderous expression on Nate’s face as he made his way over to where Parker was standing, but when the auctioneer glanced in her direction again, clearly waiting for her to raise the bid again, she simply hunched her shoulders slightly and shook her head.

“And…sold, to the lady in the front!” The glee in the auctioneer’s voice was impossible to miss, and although the blood rushed loudly in Eliot’s ears, loud enough for him not to catch how much this woman was actually willing to pay for the right of what was basically a drink and a dance, he knew it was a lot of money.

He gave the woman his nicest smile and offered her his arm. He knew how to be a gentleman after all.

~*+*~

“Parker, what are you doing!” Sophie’s voice held more than a hint of frustration, which was the first thing that forced the majority of Eliot’s attention away from his date and to the stage area.

Hardison was up, he saw, the confident grin on his face a clear sign that he was using the same strategy as Eliot. He was flirting with a woman to his left and almost completely ignoring the pale arm in the dark green sleeve at the back of the crowd.

“Parker, the con!” Nate reminded her. He sounded baffled, Eliot thought, unsure as to what had happened to his plan but still busy adjusting things and trying to save the house of cards he’d erected around them.

“What?” Parker whispered back. “I have money! I can do this if I want!”

“Oh my.” That was Sophie, and Eliot found himself silently agreeing with her. Parker admittedly was a thief because she liked money, not stuff, and if she was willing to part with her money for Hardison, she had to be serious about it.

Him.

Both of them, he thought, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Parker had tried to outbid his current date as well. 

He didn’t want to think too closely about what that meant, for him, for her, for the three of them, but before he could do just as much as blink, he could hear Hardison’s voice over his ear bud.

“Parker,” he said soothingly, “you know that this isn’t for real, right? Listen, you know that we will both come back to you, I promise you that. You believe me, right?”

Parker didn’t answer, but her hand didn’t shoot up again, and while the auctioneer finished off with his business and Hardison moved his long limbs down to the lucky woman who had won him in a way he probably thought looked sexy, Eliot was busy not freaking out about what Hardison had said.

About what he had just revealed to Nate and Sophie.

About the things Eliot would be more comfortable keeping under wraps. 

Taking a deep breath, he slowly released it again. Suddenly, sweat started to prickle at his palms and along the line of his spine, and he felt hot and cold at the same time.

Things couldn’t be helped now, and he needed to focus on the con and make sure that at least the rest of it went according to plan, even if his heart and mind wasn’t in it.

He just had to get through the evening in one piece, and then he could deal with Hardison and his big mouth.

Eliot knew exactly how he wanted to deal with that.

And this time, he would not stop for anything. Not even for Parker, but if he read the situation correctly – and there was only one logical way to read it, in his opinion – she wouldn’t want him to stop anyway.

~*+*~

It was late when they finally managed to get away from the job. Eliot had been moving on autopilot for most of the job and he took a second to thank God that it had gone off without a hitch and without him having to fight anyone.

He suspected Hardison, who was twitchy and nervous in the passenger seat, twisting his fingers together and fumbling with his phone, his leg twitching up and down with nervous energy, felt similarly.

Without taking his eyes off the road ahead of him, he reached over and placed his own hand on Hardison’s knee, to still the jiggling before it annoyed him enough to snap at Hardison.

Hardison exhaled sharply, but he made an effort to keep still.

Eliot appreciated it.

“You think she’s safe? I didn’t see her there, in the end,” Hardison finally voiced what he was worried about.

Eliot gave him a small smile. “She’s fine,” he said. “Saw her slip out the back. She’s probably at home already, eating God knows what. Crazy girl.” 

Hardison breathed a weak, tired laugh and turned his face away, to look out of the passenger side window at the lights flying by as Eliot navigated his way through the streets and toward Hardison’s apartment.

Eliot had been right. By the time they entered the apartment, Parker was already waiting for them. She was sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest and her hair tumbling down her shoulders in gentle waves. She had changed clothes, out of the dress and into familiar and more comfortable black pants and a long-sleeved shirt, but she hadn’t bothered brushing out her hair. 

Hardison smiled in relief when he saw her and sat down next to her without hesitation. Eliot hesitated and made a slow circuit around the place, to make sure all the windows were closed and nobody was lurking in the shadows, and to give the two a moment for themselves.

When he returned, Parker had plastered herself against Hardison’s side, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and was listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Eliot shook his head fondly and went to the kitchen. If they were going to do this, they would need to talk first, that much was obvious, about boundaries and when it was okay to burst into a room and when not. And if he was honest, it was not a conversation he wanted to have without a drink in his hands.

He brought a glass of Parker’s favorite wine and a bottle of orange soda back for the other two and settled down on Hardison’s other side.

“So.” It was Hardison who broke the silence first. He had one arm wrapped around Parker’s shoulder and was holding her reassuringly close. “You wanna tell us what’s gotten into you there, girl?”

Parker shook her head slightly. A small frown had appeared on her forehead. 

“Parker…” Eliot hadn’t meant his voice to sound so menacing, but Parker’s behavior had been frustrating him for a while now. He wanted answers, and he was used to getting them, one way or another.

“Okay, okay!” She pulled away from Hardison’s body and hunched her shoulders defensively. “I didn’t want these women to have their paws all over you!”

Hardison gave Eliot a long and slightly disapproving look.

“Oh for…Parker, you know it’s just for the job!” Eliot groaned and yanked a hand through his own hair.

“I don’t care if it’s for the job, or for charity, or whatever,” she replied sharply. “I don’t like it, okay? I…” She licked her lip and hunched her shoulders up even more. “I have money. I can have you.”

Eliot sighed. “It doesn’t work that way,” he said. “You can’t just…have people like that. Not for real, okay?”

Parker’s frown deepened. “But…” she said and bit her bottom lip. “But…”

“You can’t make people fall in love with you,” Hardison told her gently before looking at Eliot again.

“Oh.” Parker sounded lost, as if the whole idea was so incredibly strange that she hadn’t even thought about it properly. Knowing Parker, that was probably true. She was crazy, but, Eliot thought, a fierce wave of protectiveness and fondness filling him, she was their crazy girl.

Returning Hardison’s look with one of his own, he nodded slightly. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice pitched low and soothing. “You wanna know why?”

“Why?” She looked at him with wide eyes, and Eliot reached out and gently took her elbow, to pull her across Hardison’s lap and on top of himself. Not knowing how she’d react if he crushed her to his chest, the way he wanted to, to hold her there and protect her and keep her safe, he gently placed his hands on top of hers and pulled them to his chest.

Hardison made an encouraging noise next to them, and then, their lips met. Parker’s were soft and hesitant, but Eliot was patient and simply waited for her to process what was going on and get comfortable with the simple kiss.

Parker made a bewildered sound deep in her throat, but then, she kissed him back with single-minded focus and concentration. His eyes fluttered shut despite his best intentions to keep them open, to make sure she didn’t reach for any forks, but then she leaned more of her weight against his chest and her tongue brushed shyly against his lip.

He smiled and ran his hands down her forearms, over strong muscles and sinews, until he reached her shoulders. From there, he ran them down her back and let them come to rest on her hips while they still kissed.

“Not fair, man,” Hardison muttered next to them, his voice deep and rough with arousal. “Best show ever, but I want in.”

Eliot grinned as he gently disengaged his mouth from Parker’s and pulled back. For a split second, it looked as if Parker wanted to sway in his direction, follow his move and get him back to kissing her, but then, Hardison was close enough, and her attention was diverted.

They looked good together, Eliot decided as he watched them kiss, their skin a sharp contrast, Parker’s jerky movements smoothed out by Hardison’s hands on her face, guiding her and holding on to her. She was still kneeling astride Eliot’s body, twisted to the side to face Hardison, who was pressed against Eliot’s side, and all he needed to do was to reach out to touch both of them at the same time.

He did, brushing a calloused, broad hand under Hardison’s shirt, seeking warm skin and kneading it gently. His other hand gently came to rest on the curve of Parker’s hip, steadying her and making sure she wouldn’t slip off his lap while kissing Hardison.

They looked so innocent together, so young. Eliot swallowed against the tide of emotions rising in his chest that threatened to choke him. 

This, he felt, was special. This wasn’t like any of his other conquests, and it hadn’t been for a long time now, not since the first time he’d found himself on Hardison’s couch, with Hardison sprawled over him and their tongues stroking gently against each other.

Hardison made a quiet sound that compelled Eliot to lean over as much as he could and lick at the side of his neck, pressing his lips there and sucking gently.

Parker made a shocked, soft sound that made something in Eliot curl up tight and tense with sudden want and other feelings he didn’t have a real name for yet, and then, Hardison’s lips were on his, surprisingly cool and soft, with a hint of teeth behind them as Eliot’s tongue was drawn into his mouth. 

The position was less than comfortable, but neither of them cared as they traded kisses between them, and Hardison blinked at them slowly while Eliot and Parker tried to wrestle him out of his shirt.

Parker’s was next, and Hardison leaned closer to them as his lips trailed down her breasts, along the line of her bra, tongue flickering out teasingly and wetting the cotton while one of his hands found its way into Eliot’s hair, to tug and tease the long strands. The small pain wasn’t enough to distract Eliot, but the way arousal shot through his body at the touch, the weight of Parker’s body across his thighs, definitely was.

“We should move this,” Hardison said, his voice deep and his eyes heavy-lidded. “To the bedroom. Much more comfortable.”

Eliot nodded his agreement, and when Parker made no move to get up, he gave her a gentle shove that made her fall against Hardison’s legs with a giggle. 

Hardison grabbed her under the arms and simply pulled her to her feet before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Come on, mama,” he said. “Let’s go to bed.”

He held out a hand for Eliot, and for once, Eliot allowed the younger man to pull him to his feet and into the bedroom.

Their way there was hindered by Eliot and Parker trying to get Hardison out of his pants without making him stumble and break his neck, Parker sucking a bruise into Eliot’s shoulder and Hardison fighting with the clasp of her bra.

Finally, they tumbled in a giant, big heap onto the mattress. Pillows and clothes were shoved off the mattress, Hardison almost tumbled off as well if not for Eliot’s tight grip on his arm yanking him back to the middle of the bed where he rolled into Parker’s body, got a knee to his stomach for his trouble, and then, Parker kissed him again, deep and dirty, her tongue hot and slick and all her earlier hesitation forgotten.

Eliot didn’t have much time to enjoy the sight before he was pulled in again, Hardison spread alongside him and fingers on his fly, pressing the rough denim against his hardening cock and causing it to push even more against the stiff fabric and the teasing touch.

Blinking his eyes open, he watched Hardison work on the button and zipper while Parker made a soft sound and rubbed her fingers across Hardison’s chest, tweaking a nipple before turning half-around and licking a hot, wet path across Eliot’s sternum and down his stomach, until her head hid Hardison’s fingers from Eliot’s view.

He did his best to keep the soft grunts behind clenched teeth, but Hardison and Parker had come to a wordless agreement, at least for the moment, and had teamed up to tease him with teeth and tongues and hands until all he could do was pant and pull away from them for a moment to stop himself from coming too soon.

“Your turn now,” he said and smirked at Parker. He barely recognized his own voice, rough and deep as it was, and Parker shivered when she heard it. Her eyes were almost black with arousal, her hair tangled and wild, and Eliot had a sudden, quick vision of how he wanted this evening to continue.

“Hardison,” he growled. “Alec. Against the wall.” He watched hungrily as Hardison moved, long lean limbs scrambling until he was sitting against the headboard of the bed, his legs splayed out and his cock hard and wet at the tip, where it was laying against his stomach.

He couldn’t resist and crawled over, to dip his tongue into the slit at the crown of it. It was the first time they had come this far, without Parker interrupting them, and he savored the quick whimper Hardison couldn’t hold back as much as the brief, salty taste of him.

There would be time for this later, he knew, when he could take hours to do this properly, but not now.

Now, he had other things to take care of.

Like Parker, who watched him with wide, unblinking eyes.

He grinned at her and pulled her close against his chest, kissing her while guiding her to sit between Hardison’s legs and to lean back against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to start on Parker’s pants, working them open and over her hips without getting distracted by Hardison’s fingers fondling Parker’s breasts gently, as if she was the most delicate piece of computer equipment he knew. His mouth was pressing gentle kisses to Parker’s shoulders, and Eliot felt the coil in his torso tighten even more as blood rushed loudly in his veins, flowing down to his dick.

“We’re gonna make you feel so good,” he whispered as he leaned down, to lick at her navel and then further down.

Parker made a sound that was almost inhuman, a keening noise that made Eliot lift his head from between her legs to check if she was okay, but she was still flushed, her eyes blown, her lips bitten, and her nails clawed into Hardison’s forearms.

“Yes?” he asked.

Parker nodded, and he went back to what he had started, licking and kissing and pressing her legs apart to give himself more room.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when she shuddered against his tongue, the muscles in her thighs trembling and her breath escaping her in a squawk, but he estimated that it hadn’t been that long. He slowed the speed of his licks, but didn’t stop until she started squirming away from him, too sensitive to be touched for the moment.

Eliot leaned up on his elbows, then his hands, to kiss Hardison again, sharing her taste with him and making sure he was still with them.

“What do you think,” he murmured, his mouth close to Hardison’s ear, “you wanna fuck her while I fuck you?”

The thought alone was enough to make his mouth go dry, and judging from the look in Hardison’s eyes, he wasn’t the only one.

“Parker?” Hardison asked hesitantly.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Parker said with a wide, almost manic grin. She looked a little reckless, the same expression on her face she had when she was ready to throw herself off a roof. “We should totally do that.”

“Totally.” Hardison swallowed and closed his eyes briefly, and Eliot chuckled as he kneeled up and leaned over, to start digging through the drawers of the bedside table for condoms and lube.

“What are we waiting for?” Parker asked, at the same time Hardison wanted to know, “How are we going to do this?”

Parker slid out of his embrace and stretched out on her back. “I need a pillow,” she stated and poked Eliot with her toes. “Eliot, I need a pillow!”

He rolled his eyes, but tossed her one before resuming his search for condoms. He was sure that Hardison had remembered to buy some, otherwise, they would have to change their plans accordingly, and he wasn’t sure that either of them was patient enough for that.

“Come here,” Parker murmured behind him, her voice low and sure. The sheets rustled, and Eliot almost lost his patience when his fumbling fingers felt the familiar crinkling foil of a condom, quickly followed by a second one and an almost full bottle of lube.

When he turned back, Parker had pushed the pillow under her hips and had wrapped her legs around Hardison’s waist, holding him close to her while they kissed. Hardison’s back was slightly arched, his posture controlled by Parker’s heels, and seeing him like this did very interesting things to Eliot’s libido.

With a growl, he leaned over and bit down, on the fleshy part of Hardison’s ass, careful not to leave too much of a bruise.

Parker’s fingers tightened against the back of Hardison’s skull for a split second before she relaxed and expectantly held out a hand to Eliot.

There wasn’t much doubt about what she wanted, and he dropped one of the condoms into her palm and brought his attention back to the shift of muscles under Hardison’s skin, quick and fluidly as he squirmed in Parker’s grasp. He watched her shoulders move as her talented fingers worked between them, rolling the condom over Hardison’s cock, the sight hidden from him by Hardison’s body.

Suddenly, he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to be part of that, wanted to fuck Hardison and watch Parker’s face over Hardison’s shoulder as he fucked her, wanted to kiss both of them and feel them pressed against his skin and hold them tight and never let them go.

It was an overwhelming feeling, and if either Parker or Hardison realized that his hands were shaking when he opened the lube and poured some over his fingers, they didn’t mention it.

He forced himself to go slow, to push in first one finger and then a second, ignoring the impatient squirming Hardison did that Parker’s grip on him couldn’t stop. He carefully stretched his fingers out, adding more lube and listening to the distinctive sounds of pain of distress.

When they didn’t come, he pulled back and rolled the condom on. 

“Ready?” he growled.

“God, Eliot,” Hardison gasped, but Eliot didn’t give him the chance to say anything else as he pushed into him in one smooth slide.

The rush of blood in his ears was too loud for him to catch Hardison’s answer anyway.

“Eliot,” Parker said, wonder and needy lust mingling in her voice. “I can feel you in him.” She arched her back, wrapped both arms around Hardison’s broad shoulders and allowed Eliot to take her hands, tangle their fingers and hold on to her while he slowly sank deeper into Hardison’s welcoming and tight heat, pushing him down against Parker in the process, into her.

Someone made a quiet noise full of want and need, and he couldn’t make himself find out who it was.

It didn’t matter.

“You good?” he asked Hardison and plastered himself carefully against his back, touching as much of him as he could without putting too much weight on him and Parker.

“Am I good?” Hardison raised his head and rubbed his cheek against Eliot, his skin feverish hot. “I’m fantastic man, move!”

Eliot’s eyes found Parker’s again and held it, until he was sure that she was fine too, and that it was okay to continue, to pull out, take Hardison with him and then push back down again, his thrusts forcing Hardison into Parker.

It didn’t look as if he was complaining about it.

They set a rhythm that was not too slow and not too fast, that allowed Hardison to pull out of Parker far enough to make every thrust count, make both of them feel it in the best possible way.

Sweat started to form between Hardison’s back and Eliot’s front, on the inside of Parker’s knees where she was pressing them against their sides, her foot rising occasionally off of the mattress to slide along Eliot’s leg.

Without planning and without conscious decision, their thrusts sped up, reaching an almost frantic pace.

Eliot felt himself slide deep into Hardison, felt Hardison’s muscles flutter and tighten around him, and he thought about slowing down, about making this last, but his body disobeyed his command, twitching and straining and wanting, and he quickly realized that this was the kind of fight that he didn’t want to win.

He felt close to Hardison and Parker, too close for comfort, lust and arousal and every other emotion he felt for them winding together in a tight rope that pulled at his insides, but instead of painful, it felt different. It was too intense to be an entirely good feeling, but he knew that this was it.

He would do everything in his power to keep them safe and as sane as possible, and he would put his life down for them without hesitation, knowing – hoping – that they would do the same for him, that they felt the same for him.

He kept his eyes and ears focused on the two people under him, on the amount of weight resting against Hardison’s back, the speed of their thrusts, the little hitches Parker’s breath made when she started to get close, the flush that crept high on her pale face and down her chest, the whining at the back of Hardison’s throat, and when he was certain that both of them were getting close, he changed the angle of his thrusts, wormed a hand between them, and touched them, every piece of skin his hands could reach, both Hardison’s and Parker’s, his breath held as he watched them fall apart, straining against each other and his fingers, pressing close and crying out and leaving half-moon shaped imprints in his own skin where his and Parker’s hands were still tangled, holding on for all they were worth, anchoring them together and making sure none of them drifted away, not while they were like this.

Orgasm hit him with the blunt force of a carnival ride, taking his breath and awareness away and leaving him gasping desperately for breath, his hips twitching, his fingers holding on to Hardison, to Parker, with more strength than he could control.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, his forehead was resting against Hardison’s shoulder blade, his hair was a tangled mess in front of his eyes, and he was still breathing harshly, as if he’d gone ten rounds against a worthy opponent, but he felt like flying, endorphins and muscles heavy as lead making his mind swim and dull its razor-sharp edges.

“Eliot,” Hardison’s voice drifted up from under him, breathless with amusement and satisfaction, “Eliot…”

He didn’t need to say anything else. Moving slowly, sluggishly, he leaned up again, taking his weight from them.

His elbows and knees felt weak, trembling slightly as he pulled out of Hardison, making sure there was no injury and taking off the condom with fumbling fingers.

“I could take it,” Parker murmured sleepily as she rolled out from under Hardison and stretched languidly.

Hardison smiled and bent down to kiss her, then Eliot. He brushed Eliot’s hair out of his eyes with soft fingers and grinned at him, a fond, terribly open and vulnerable expression in his eyes.

“You just stay there, man,” he murmured as he sat up. “Let me…” He didn’t finish the sentence, simply walked off, and Eliot smiled as he turned his head to watch him leave, the limp Hardison couldn’t quite suppress distinctive and filling him with pride and love.

He had done that.

Parker curled herself against his side, warm and sweaty, and Eliot allowed himself to pull her closer with his arm around her shoulder.

He would get up in a minute, join Hardison in the bathroom, clean up a little, and make sure that nobody would surprise them tonight.

In a minute.

For now, holding Parker close was more important.

He started to drift off slightly, rousing only when Hardison came back with a wet washcloth and started to clean him up carefully.

They didn’t speak, not even Hardison, who usually couldn’t keep his mouth shut, even when he slurred his words together into an indecipherable mess from exhaustion or excitement.

Parker sighed as she pulled the sheet up around them. Her head was still resting on Eliot’s shoulder, and she twitched when Hardison climbed into the bed behind her. Eliot made a mental note – of course Parker wasn’t used to sleeping in the same bed as another person, not to mention two. She was less used to it than Eliot himself, who didn’t mind spending the night but never slept a lot.

He wouldn’t sleep a lot with the two of them next to him here, either, he knew that already, but for now, he allowed himself to settle, his breathing calm once again, his muscles relaxed.

He could doze a little, he decided, and later, when both Hardison and Parker had fallen asleep, he could sneak away and watch a little hockey. Hardison wouldn’t mind, and if he was right and Parker was as light a sleeper as he suspected, she would join him soon, and they could watch cartoons that were ridiculous and crazy.

Hardison’s arm reached out, to turn off the lamp, not asking any questions. Eliot turned his head slightly, smiling at him over Parker’s head.

Hardison grinned back.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice pitched quiet. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Eliot exhaled slowly. “I’m good.”

It was, he realized, not a lie, not a half-truth, nothing but reality. He was fine right where he was, and he was sure both Parker and Hardison felt the same.

“Great,” Parker said, her voice bright and happy despite its obvious sleepiness. “That means you make waffles tomorrow for breakfast, right?”

Eliot growled, but it was a friendly growl.

Of course he would.

~end.


End file.
